My Dad's Boss - Free on Sunday, December 11, 2011.

My bestselling book, My Dad's Boss, will be available for free from Amazon tomorrow!  Make sure you get your hands on a hot little copy because this book is extremely hot and I'm not the only one saying so!

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Excerpt

Twenty-two-year-old, newly-wed bride, Christina Richmond, wearing black garter belt, stockings and sheer babydoll nightgown, turned obediently onto her stomach and then let her sixty-seven-year-old groom, Royce, urge her up on all-fours.

“Are you going to fuck my ass?” she asked hopefully, tilting herself up in anticipation.

“Why would I fuck your bottom, my dear, when you have such a delectable little pussy?” Arranging his fingers as though making the sign for a gun, he poked the two straight fingers into her pussy and finger fucked her vigorously.  “I leave ass fucking to gay men and such.”

No ass fucking for a year, she thought in dismay, she wouldn’t survive, would she?  She should have gone for the settlement of five hundred thousand pounds—she would have only had to stay married to him for six months.  Instead, she had been greedy and opted for the prenup for twice the money and now she would have to stay married to him for twice as long.  Her ass would need therapy if it was denied fucking for that length of time!

She sighed aloud as he pulled his fingers out and buried his cock smoothly inside her with one long thrust.  At least his cock was still reasonably meaty and long, although it must have atrophied a little with age.  He had already fucked her once, missionary style.  She had then expected to snuggle up to him and sleep for the remainder of their wedding night.  Instead he had insisted on fucking her again, briefly building her hopes of an ass fucking when he had turned her onto her front, but instead it was another pussy fucking, only this time from the back.  He was a fit man who played tennis twice weekly and jogged early mornings when the weather was good, but she wondered vaguely, as he pounded his cock into her, if his vigour was natural or Viagra-aided. 

Finally he grunted one last time and came with a bang.

Then he pulled himself free, collapsed onto the bed next to her and immediately started snoring.

Christina rolled onto her side and smiled at him fondly.  Her very own sugar daddy!  And the poor dear, he had worked himself to the bone fucking her.

Theirs had been a whirlwind courtship.  Only six weeks ago she had met him and known immediately that she wanted to marry him…for his money.  The forty-five year difference in their ages hadn’t mattered.  When he’d proposed, she hadn’t played coy and asked for time to think it over; she had said yes immediately.

Growing up poor and the sixth of seven children hadn’t been fun for Christina.  All three of her older sisters had followed their mother’s footsteps and become mothers at early ages.  Christina had decided that she wanted more out of life.  She had practised speaking well by listening repeatedly to a DVD copy of the BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, mimicking Jennifer Ehle’s intonation until she sounded almost exactly like her. At sixteen, she had started a part-time job at Harvey Nichols and knew immediately that she didn’t want to spend a life behind the counter serving—she wanted to be on the other side, being served.  She had recognized the power of her pussy from a tender age and had used it and her model height and looks to get the things her parents couldn’t afford to give her, so she looked for ways to put it to use again.

Her first serious relationship was with a wealthy much-older lesbian, one of the store’s regular customers.  Christina hadn’t considered herself even remotely bi-sexual, but Evelyn Schofield’s boast that a man would never satisfy Christina again if she let Evelyn fuck her only once, had intrigued the younger woman.   Evelyn had made good on her promise.  Christina’s pussy had been eaten before, but Evelyn had eaten it with extreme relish.  Evelyn’s dildo of choice had been aptly named ‘Outlaw’.  With it  strapped to her hips, Evelyn had made every man that had come before her fade into insignificance when she had given Christina every insertable inch of the nine-and-a-quarter inch realistic toy, the equally realistic balls slapping the younger woman’s clit deliciously as she was being fucked.  Another favourite of Evelyn’s was her ‘Eleven’ a stainless steel dildo with its eight insertable inches.  But, Christina had had a special fondness for Evelyn’s Prince Valiant, a multi-coloured pinstriped glass dildo with a thick g-spot shaft and an obscenely bulbous head.  The cool smooth glass had a wonderful feel to it and the g-spot shaft hit Christina’s pleasure spot unerringly on every occasion.  It was as pleasurable being inserted as it was being withdrawn and Christina had often watched avidly, almost hypnotized by the swirling pinstripes, as Evelyn had buried the dildo to the very base inside her.

Evelyn’s sexual appetite was phenomenal and matched equally by her young lover’s.  Often at work, Christina, still feeling the effects of Evelyn’s lovemaking the previous night, counted the minutes of every hour until she would get to Evelyn’s home and be fucked again.  Then one day she came home and found Evelyn in bed with another woman.  There was no reason for her to be jealous, Evelyn had explained, Annette was her first lover and the two of them had known each other since university.  Annette was married with a family but occasionally came by for a fuck.

Christina had packed and left, deciding that she was too young to play second fiddle to the woman Evelyn was so obviously in love with it was painful to see.  She would have been sorely tempted to steal the very expensive Prince Valiant and its padded pouch when she was leaving, if it hadn’t been the very dildo Evelyn had been burying up inside a very receptive Annette, when Christina had walked in on them.

Having allowed herself to become emotionally involved with Evelyn in a way she had never done with any man, the older woman’s betrayal hurt Christina deeply.  Never again, she vowed.

Royce Richmond had walked into the store days later looking for a gift for his son Robert’s fortieth birthday.  Christina had helped him find the perfect gift and he had walked out the store with it and her number in his pocket.

She had lived with Evelyn rent free and had saved a little money not having to pay bills or buy food, but except for the expensive gold watch her lover had bought her for Valentine’s, Christina had left the relationship with only her clothes.  She hadn’t made the same mistake with Royce, insisting that they marry before having sex, although she didn’t hide the fact that she wasn’t a virgin.  He had wanted the wedding to take place within a week, but she had needed six for her dream dress to be designed and sewn and for all the preparation of her fairytale wedding to be made.

Royce was a tycoon who had built a business empire worth in excess of fifty million from literally nothing but his bare hands.  Though he was totally besotted with Christina, not even the promise of her young pussy had made him foolish enough to not insist on a prenup to protect Robert’s interest as his heir.

Christina hadn’t minded the prenup, but she had sensed that Robert and his nineteen-year-old twin sons, Bryan and Ryan, were none too thrilled that Royce was giving her a million pounds of the money they considered their rightful inheritance. Robert had given her a distantly frosty welcome.  His sons had kissed her cheeks dutifully and said they were pleased to meet her, in a way that relayed the opposite.

She didn’t particularly care what any of them thought of her.  Royce was the security blanket she’d always wanted.

It was too bad that he had just given her probably the most unsatisfactory fuck of her young life.

She needed a drink.

***

Robert watched his father’s new young wife pour herself a generous brandy and quickly toss it back.  His father was such an old fool, he thought, his lips curving upwards in mirth, but the old fool had exquisite taste. 

He stood at the doorway to the kitchen admiring Christina’s round ass as it tilted upwards invitingly, just begging for his cock.

“Left you horny, didn’t he?” he asked finally.

Her head snapped around at the sound of his voice, her large eyes opening even wider in surprise.

She was dressed in very sexy high-heeled bedroom slippers and a sheer robe which covered an equally sheer nightgown and left nothing to his imagination. She may as well have been naked.  She stood staring back at him, and though she didn’t verbally answer his question, her body screamed, “Yes, Stepson, your daddy’s left me horny.  Your stepmother’s in need of a good fuck.  Help!”

He switched off the light and closed the distance between them as though she’d said the words aloud.  Turning her around, he pressed her forward onto the granite kitchen work surface, so that she was lying against the cool surface, her ass stuck in the air.  Pressing himself against her, he said, “I can tell from the high angle of your ass that it has been fucked regularly.  I also know that my old man is too much of a straight arrow to continue the practice.  You’ll be pleased to hear, my horny stepmother, that I’m as bent as a bow.”

Weak with desire and anticipation, Christina said nothing as he pressed himself against her, rubbing his hardening cock up and down the crack of her ass.

“I’ll take a little pussy first,” he informed her, spreading her legs as he freed his cock from his boxers and quickly forced it inside her.  He was satisfyingly large and Christina moaned as the hard length filled her.  “And maybe plant a little brother or sister in your womb before I fuck your ass.”

My Dad’s Boss

Excerpt

It was a Mr Hudson, but not the one I expected. This was his good-looking bastard of a son, Nicholas.

His eyes opened in surprise, then he smiled and said, “Hi, Bruiser!”

I hated that name!  It was a painful reminder of the first time we’d met.  I had still been wearing the stupid dental braces my mother had insisted I needed, though I’d thought my teeth were fine.  People tell me I have a killer smile now, so I guess the pain and embarrassment at the time were worth it.  But that hadn’t been the most embarrassing thing of meeting him that day.  I had bumped into my friend, Gemma, in gym class the day before. And, I mean bumped into, literally.  She was shorter then so her hard head had connected with my left eye.  I hadn’t wanted to attend the stupid company picnic with an eye the colour of a rainbow, but my father had insisted, saying that I was too young to be left at home on my own.  And, added to all that, I had woken up with my first ever teenage spot that same bloody morning.  I had looked and felt like hell.  I felt even worse when I met Mr North’s eldest son, who just graduated from Cambridge and was off to work in the States on a four-year contract, the next week.  He’d been dressed casually in a polo shirt and black jeans, but he’d looked so worldly and sophisticated, I’d felt like a ten-year-old and I’d wished he had bloody gone to America a week early.

He looked suave and even better looking now, sitting behind his father’s desk and wearing a light grey shirt which perfectly matched his eyes.  I stared at him stupidly for several seconds, realizing in horror that except for the top which occasionally rode up and showed the undersides of my breasts and the short skirt my mother often threatened to burn or give to the twelve-year-old girl next door, I was naked to his gaze.

“So, Bruiser,  what can I do for you?”

“I’m here to see your father.”  My voice came out wobbly.

“My father retired three months ago.  He and Mum are currently on a Caribbean cruise.”

“So who’s in charge?” I asked, hoping that I was mistaken in thinking that he was.

“I am, of course.  Who did you expect to be?”

This is why my dad was worried, I realized.  Old Mr North had known him for years and knew how good he was at his job as an investment banker.  This young upstart would only see the money he would lose if he lost Mrs North’s account.  I decided it would be foolish to beg him for anything. 

“Never mind, then.” I grabbed the side of the door wishing that I could back through it instead of having to turn around and walk through it.  My mother claimed that the cheeks of my ass were visible under the skirt, but I disagreed totally. The only things visible were the tops of my thighs as they curved into my ass, but I didn’t particularly want him seeing that much of me.

“Come back here, Bruiser!”

I wanted to stick two fingers in the air and tell him to sit on them, but my father’s job kept me in a style to which I had become accustomed.  If he lost it, I would have to find one of my own.

I turned around obediently and stared at him.

“Come closer.”

Walking slowly back to his desk, I willed my breasts not to bounce.  They didn’t, but to my horror I felt my nipples hardening as his eyes zeroed in on them.

Bastard!

Instead of offering me a seat, he looked me up and down, slowly, assessingly.

“Did you come here dressed like that hoping to entice my father into reinstating your father’s job?”

“Reinstate?  You fired him?”

Double bastard!

“I haven’t fired him yet, but he’s left me little choice in the matter.  Mrs North is a pain in the ass, but she’s a multi million-pound pain in the ass.  Sometimes you have to endure the pain, no matter how much your ass hurts, to get to the pleasure of the profits afterwards.”

Maybe it isn’t too late to stick those fingers into him, I thought.

“So, you came here flashing lots of cleavage and even more leg, hoping to make my father lose his head?”

“I didn’t,” I protested indignantly.

How dare he think so cheaply of me?

Triple bastard!

“I would need a lot more than a flash of cleavage and the sight of your long legs.”

“I wasn’t offering you anything.”

“Really?”  He sounded so uninterested I wanted to knock his perfectly groomed head off his broad shoulders.  “That’s a shame because I was willing to be convinced.”

“What would I have to do?” I asked hesitantly.

I would give him a blowjob in a heartbeat, but nothing else.  I don’t like sex.  I can’t imagine why people have it, except to have kids.  My ex-boyfriend, Mark, and I had fooled around when we were sixteen.  I hated it!  The pain, the...ugh!  After the fourth time I told him I wasn’t doing it anymore.  And after a month of giving him excellent blowjobs, even if I say so myself, he broke up with me to have ‘proper’ sex with Darla, my bitterest rival all through secondary school.

“I want you to strip for me.”

“What?” I asked in alarm.  There was no way I was taking my clothes off.  The next thing he would want is sex.  “I’m not getting naked!”

“You’re halfway there already.  I don’t see the problem.”

“I’m not taking my clothes off!”

“You have no reason to be shy.  Your body is very sexy.”

I like my body and like to stand in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom playing with myself.  I know I have a sexy body.  I didn’t need him to tell me that, but I also know that I didn’t plan on having sex again until I was married.  And then only enough times to have the two cute daughters I’ve always wanted, Adele and Chloe, and never again.

“I won’t touch you,” he promised.

“Promise?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

When hell froze over, I thought.

“I won’t touch you,” he vowed.  “But I want you to touch yourself.”

Oh my God, could he tell that I played with myself all the time? Were the words ‘frequent masturbator’ tattooed on my forehead in invisible ink that could only be seen if someone looked hard enough?

“Touch myself?”

“Yes, I want you to touch yourself for me, but you must follow my instructions implicitly.”

“Okay,” I agreed, liking the idea of getting him all hot and sweaty as he watched me play with myself, making his cock as hard as a rock…once he didn’t try to put it into any holes on my body, except my mouth.

“Lock the door first.”

Toni

Excerpt

Twenty-eight-year-old Toni Montgomery had several attributes that could have made her a supermodel: high cheekbones; dark well-defined eyebrows; wide-set, thick-lashed grey eyes; a narrow, straight nose and full, sensuous lips which were so perfect they looked cosmetically enhanced.  She was five-foot-eleven in socks and had shapely forty-five-inch legs that most women would kill for.

But the rest of her was not quite so perfect: broad shoulders; small breasts; thick waist and a small behind.  A body that was straight up and down.  She was often mistaken for a transsexual.

She wasn’t.

Medically, she was termed female pseudo hermaphrodite.

Her loving parents thought her beautiful and perfect in every way.

The couple had both been extremely busy doctors with no thought of having children when her mother had miraculously become pregnant with Toni at the age of forty-five; her father had had a vasectomy almost fifteen years before.  After their initial shock, her parents had looked forward to their child’s birth as eagerly as any expectant parents-to-be would.

Within minutes of her birth the doctors and nurses had started whispering in hushed tones about ambiguous genitalia and at first wouldn’t allow her parents to see her.  Finally when her father had insisted, the doctors had taken him aside and explained the problem and suggested that they take immediate steps to correct it.  Her father had promptly reminded the doctor that he too was a physician and the ambiguity of her genitals was not a problem.

He and her mother had both agreed that they would let nature take its course and to the horror of the medical staff of the maternity hospital, had taken their healthy baby home without surgical intervention.

Toni had had an extremely happy childhood.  Her parents had discussed her unique body makeup with her and answered all her questions as frankly and as honestly as they could.  She had been privately educated, excelling at most subjects but had a natural flair for foreign languages.  Up to about age eleven she had looked and acted more like an unusually pretty boy and had never seriously wondered if she was male or female.  She had been very athletic; able to outrun both boys and girls of a similar age.  Then at puberty she developed breasts and started to menstruate.  The nub between her vaginal lips began to look more like a small penis than a large clit.

When she was about fourteen her parents realized that she was extraordinarily attuned to people’s needs.  She would occasionally, without being asked, pour a small tumbler of brandy for her mother or her father when either came home exhausted and mentally drained after losing, or having to impart devastating news to, a patient.  Her hands would sometimes unerringly find a spot of tension or soreness on their bodies and massage it until it disappeared.

She had inherited her Irish father’s thick, silky jet-black hair and her English mother’s  dreamy grey eyes, small hands and slender, delicately arched feet.  Neither of them was particularly tall so it had been amusing when she shot up past both of them in height before the age of sixteen.  Long hair had never flattered her slightly angular face so she opted for ultra short, superbly-cut hairstyles which complimented her features.  She never liked the feel of her thighs touching each other, especially in the summer, so more often than not she wore trousers.  Her breasts though rounded didn’t protrude enough outwardly to warrant the restriction of a bra.  But she had worn one until the age of twenty-one when she graduated from Oxford Brookes University with a BA (Hons) Business and Marketing Management.

***

Toni’s hands flew over the keyboard with effortless ease as she quickly drafted the minutes of the last meeting with her employer, Bryon Carter, and Mars Lockwood, the owner of an elite employment agency Bryon was hoping to soon acquire.

“Toni?”

She looked up at the sound of his voice and found him standing framed in the doorway of his office, looking every inch the tycoon in a designer suit that had been tailored to fit his trim body.  He smiled at her before turning and walking back into his office without saying another word.

She got up immediately and locked the outer door before she walked back past her desk and entered his beautifully designed, functional office.  He had his penis out of his trousers by the time she got to his desk.  Kneeling on the plush carpet, she took it into her mouth.  He had a client due in twenty minutes, so she knew all he needed was quick release.  She opened her mouth and took his erect penis all the way into her throat as she cupped his balls softly.

He came in less than five minutes.

“Thank you, Toni,” he gasped as he spurted the last of his cum into her mouth.

“My pleasure, Byron.”  She got to her feet and straightened the jacket of her trouser suit.  “Shall I send Mr Butters in at his appointed time?”

“Yes please.”

“Very well.”  She nodded to him, walked back to her office and into her private bathroom.

She quickly stepped out of her damp panties,  dropped them into the bin and wiped her wet vagina.  She always got such a rush from giving him head.  She opened the door of the cabinet, cleverly designed so it faded seamlessly into the wall, took out a fresh pair of panties and pulled them on.   She made a small adjustment to her skirt as she checked herself in the full length mirror before walking back into her office.  She then unlocked the outer door, walked back to her desk and resumed where she had left off before Byron had summoned her.

She loved being his PA and had known she would have done the moment she’d seen the advert for the job.  She had been easily able to demonstrate every essential requirement.  He had hoped for someone with a working knowledge of French, Spanish or German; she was fluent in all three.

Bryon was one of the UK’s most powerful executives and there was never a dull moment in her working day.  Her annual salary and bonuses were in excess of a quarter of a million pounds.  She had been in the post for just over two years but she vividly remembered the day that she had attended the interview like it was yesterday.  When she’d walked into the room she had immediately realized that she wasn’t what Bryon had been looking for although her CV and references had been impeccable.  Thankfully he hadn’t immediately dismissed her.  He had listened keenly to her well-planned presentation and when she’d had his undivided attention she had started to throw the words willing and able into as many sentences as she could. When he finally got her drift she had seen the recognition of it in his eyes.

At the end of the interview she had asked what time he planned to leave the office that evening and he had told her eight o’clock.  She told him that she would give him some time to think about the benefits she could bring to the job and would return just before he left at eight to discuss it further.

When she had returned at eight o’clock she had spun his chair to face her, casually unzipped his fly and given him a blowjob that he had confessed later was the best he’d ever had in his life.  Before she left his office he’d offered her the job.  Three months later her first bonus was  half her annual salary.

She was attuned to Byron’s every need.  She would sometimes unobtrusively stand behind him and massage his tense shoulders.  Or lock the door, give him a blowjob or drop her panties and bend over the nearest desk or chair so that he could take her quickly and release the tension after an intense business negotiation.  Other times she would perch on the end of his desk and let him eat her in appreciation for a job well done if she’d pulled off a major coup. She could sense when he was tired, when he was hungry for a sandwich or needed a full five course meal.   He never regretted hiring her.

His wife was extremely comfortable with their working relationship.  She praised Toni for being so efficient that Bryon had mellowed significantly since she started working with him.  They had holidayed as a threesome in Dubai eight months after Toni had started the job and she had spent more time pleasuring Mrs Carter than she’d had Bryon.  He had been so jubilant after a successful takeover bid, he had slept like a baby for almost fourteen hours every day of their ten nights stay.

Toni’s melodious, husky voice which had made her a small fortune as a chatline operator while at university was at complete odds with her appearance.  Many of Bryon’s business associates were taken aback when they met her in person for the first time after having dealt with her only by telephone and imagined her to be a petite temptress with a voluptuously curved body.

***

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Elusive Innocence

Excerpt

Lisel Herrera tugged at her skirt one last time before pressing the doorbell of the sprawling mansion.

The advert had listed a mobile number and had said simply, “Female, preferably between the ages of 16 and 18, needed for light housework.  Please contact: Gareth Anderson.”

At nineteen, she barely looked fourteen.  She desperately needed extra income right now and would do just about anything to get some, including lie about her age.

The door opened moments later and for a few seconds she gazed stupidly back at the man standing in the doorway, completely lost for words.  Wearing a forest green roll neck jumper, black jeans and black monogrammed bedroom slippers, he looked as though he had just stepped off the screen of an old Hollywood movie.  Late-twenties, or early-thirties, Lisel guessed.  Two tiny wings of silver at each temple enhanced the glossy lustre of his jet black hair and almost perfectly matched his silvery eyes.

“Are you here for the job?” His voice was a deep purr that sent a shiver down her spine.  As she nodded, too surprised to speak, he stepped aside and invited, “I’m Gareth.  Come in, please.”

She had thought the exterior of the house impressive as she had approached the building, but it paled in comparison to the magnificent interior.

“Your house is beautiful and…and spotless,” she commented in awe as she looked around.  “Why do you need help cleaning it?”

“Thank you.  I do most of the cleaning myself, but I don’t always get the time when I’m working on a project.  I need someone to keep things spic and span when I’m busy.”

“Why do you need someone young, or a girl for that matter?”

“Boys are dirty little creatures,” he said dismissively.  “And the reason I specifically requested someone young is because the job pays just above minimum wage.”

Stingy bastard, Lisel thought in annoyance.  His house is worth millions, and he wants to pay someone less than minimum wage to clean it?  She would be better off stacking shelves at Sainsbury’s or Tesco!

Just as she opened her mouth to thank him for agreeing to see her for the informal interview and say goodbye, he continued, “Although if you do a good job there will be regular bonuses.”

“Why not just pay more and forget bonuses?” she demanded.  It would make more sense.

“I’ve found that employees work harder when bonuses are promised.  Believe me, you won’t be disappointed with the monthly bonus I pay you.”

Monthly bonuses?  That didn’t sound too bad, if it was ten pounds or some equally ridiculous amount she would leave after the first month.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“You look younger.”  He smiled, looking pleased at the thought.  “When’s your birthday?”

“Actually it was last week.  April 21^st,” she said truthfully, seeing no harm in giving him the exact date.

“So you’re just sixteen?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.  Sixteen is the perfect age for the job.  The pay is enough for a girl’s first job.  An older girl would be able to earn more doing a regular job.”

His words sounded reasonable, but Lisel didn’t buy them.  If the man cleaned his house himself and kept it as spotless as it appeared, he didn’t need help, young or old.  She suspected that under his well-groomed exterior lurked a pervert of some sort.  A more naïve woman might have been in grave danger from him.  Lisel felt she could handle him; he seemed the type to cajole, not force, a woman into doing what he wanted.

“Are you doing your A-Levels at the moment?”

“Yes.”  Lisel did a quick mental calculation and realized her error.  “Actually I start studying for my A-Levels in September if I pass my GCSEs.”

“Does your school have a sixth form?”

“Yes it does,” Lisel responded her mind racing as she thought of an answer to his next most likely question.

“And which school is that?”

“St Angela’s,” she answered, hoping that the school did indeed have a sixth form.  She had seen some rather mature-looking young women in the school’s uniform when she had briefly rented a small, cramped bedsit in Plaistow.  They must have been at least seventeen.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s a Catholic school isn’t it?”

“Yes.”  At least it sounded like one to Lisel.

“So you have to wear a school uniform?”

“Yes.”

The interview was turning out nothing like she’d anticipated.  What did wearing a uniform have to do with anything?

“What time do you finish school?”

“Most days I finish at half-four.”  Schools generally finished earlier, Lisel thought, but she needed some extra time to get from her office to his house.

“Would you be able to get here for half-five?  You can come straight from school.”

He spoke the words casually, yet suddenly everything clicked perfectly into place.  He had a school girl fantasy, but unlike other men who were satisfied with an older woman playing the role, he wanted the real thing!

“I can get changed and still be here by half-five,” Lisel suggested, looking directly into his eyes to gauge his reaction to her words.  If she had to buy a school uniform and rush home to put it on each day, it would take up too much time.  She didn’t need the hassle or the added expense.

“I would prefer you to be here at five.  My cook leaves at four to pick up her kids, it would be convenient for you to be here soon after she leaves.”

A less savvy woman might have believed his glib excuse, but Lisel had grown up struggling for a living in Venezuela and saw him for the predator he was.  She’d had a lucky break when at the age of fifteen a young British couple who had come to the capital Caracas as volunteer teachers had hired her as a sort of au-pair for their seven-month-old son.  They had brought her to the UK at the end of their two-year stint and she had spent another blissful year working for them and improving her numeracy and literacy skills before they had moved to the US only six months ago.  They hadn’t been able to take her with them, but had found her a small flat and given her enough money to last three months in the UK while she looked for a job and just enough to buy a ticket back home if that failed.

Her money had almost run out—she had even used a little of the money that had been set aside for her plane ticket back home when she had successfully passed the interview for a job as receptionist for a large UK-based Venezuelan company.  She shared reception duties with an older woman who complained bitterly each time she had to do the seven-to-three shift.  It would be no problem for Lisel to convince the woman to let her permanently do the early shift in future.  She could be home, dressed and at his place for five, but it would be one big rush.

“Five’s too early, even if I come to your house straight from school.”

“Okay, let’s leave your starting time flexible.  I want you to come straight from school and work for two hours each afternoon.  Would that be okay with your parents?”

“I live with my grandmother,” Lisel told him.  “She doesn’t care what I do once I brought some money home.”

His eyes darkened to a stormy grey at her comment, convincing her that he had no good intentions.  Any lingering guilt she felt at deceiving him melted like ice on a sweltering day.  He meant to use her to act out some perversion or other; she would use him to get the money she desperately needed.

Promising to start the next Monday, Lisel caught a bus.

An hour later she sat in front of her second-hand computer more than a little annoyed with both herself and Gareth.  She refused to go all the way to Ilford to the school’s recommended supplier to buy their ‘custard and gravy’ uniform which the girls in Years 9-11 wore.  Instead she would go to Marks and Spencer, John Lewis or a similar high street store and buy whatever they had available.  Since schools had already reopened for the summer term, she should get everything she needed for half price or less.

***